Obsession by Susan Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

you’re thinking. But she’s willing herself to die, my love, and it won’t be long now. It won’t be long at all.’

– 3 –
    WITHIN A MONTH the weather had changed completely. It was still early March, yet the sun was strong enough to make it feel like early summer. When Corrie had crossed the square that morning she had listened to the birds singing, and had felt, as she always did at the outset of spring, a combined sadness and happiness at the passing of time. The church bells had been ringing then, though no one, when she asked, knew why, since there was no wedding that day. She’d noticed that only the old ladies were wearing their coats, and Paul Smith, the local builder’s son, had the roof down on his second-hand Golf. Now, much later in the morning, the Salvation Army band was playing beside the war memorial, and Fred Pinker had put two tables and chairs outside his café-cum-grocery. Paula was in the shop with Corrie. They were sipping the coffee Paula had brought over from Fred’s and reading the newspaper lying on the counter between them. At that moment they were engrossed in the story of the prostitute murders taking place in London. The killer had now claimed his fourth victim, and though there were no actual details of what he did to them their imaginations had no trouble filling in the gaps.
    ‘And you want to live in London?’ Paula shivered.
    ‘That’s not all that happens in London,’ Corrie retorted. ‘And desperate as I am to become a high-flying career woman, being a prostitute wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’
    ‘The trouble is you don’t know what you do have in mind,’ Paula told her.
    ‘I know,’ Corrie said, and turned over the page to carry on reading as Paula picked up the baby and put her to the breast.
    ‘I wouldn’t mind working in films,’ Corrie said after a while.
    Paula was amazed. ‘You mean as an actress?’
    ‘What, and end up like her?’ Corrie shuddered. ‘No thanks.’
    ‘Like who?’
    ‘Angelique Warne.’
    ‘Is there more about her then?’ Paula asked, leaning towards the paper. The story of Angelique Warne’s suicide was now a couple of weeks old, but was still gripping the public, both sides of the Atlantic since it was almost as rife with rumour and speculation as the death of Monroe. There were pictures of the senators she had ‘known’ in that morning’s paper, and above the picture of Cristos Bennati was the headline, ‘Did she jump, or was she pushed?’
    ‘I’d freeze my bum off in the back seat of a car for him any day,’ Corrie sighed, wistfully.
    ‘Just so long as he doesn’t push you out of the window after,’ Paula remarked.
    ‘You don’t really think he pushed her, do you?’
    Paula shrugged, ‘Who knows?’ She winced as Beth bit hard on her nipple. ‘So you reckon you’d like to work in films do you?’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘What, over there in America?’
    Corrie thought about that for a minute, then turned up her nose. ‘Not in America, no. The place is full of nutters and psychos.’
    ‘What about London?’ Paula interrupted, laughing. ‘You’ve just been reading about what’s going on there.’
    ‘True. But they’ve got all those dreadful women in America too. You know, with their Hollywood legs and silicone boobs, I could never compete. Besides, from all you read about them they’re about as skilled at being real people as Kevin Foreman is at foreplay. So, no, I’ve no desire to go to America. London would do me just fine, thank you.’
    She turned back to the story on Angelique Warne.
    ‘Speaking of Kevin,’ Paula said, trying to arrange Beth a little more comfortably, ‘I saw Linda Farrow in Safeway’s earlier. Did you know she was going out with Kevin?’
    Corrie shook her head. She was looking at the picture of Bennati again. ‘Good luck to her, is all I can say,’ she mumbled.
    ‘She told me they’re getting engaged next month.’ Paula waited for a reaction from Corrie.
    ‘Bit quick,